Blink of an Eye
by R21
Summary: Darien and Bobby are sent on a mission that goes horribly wrong


Blink of an Eye

R2

(Stacey Skinner)

Disclaimer: This story is the result of a dream I had. I wrote it over the course of three lunch breaks at work. Enjoy! The Invisible Man is the sole property of Sci Fi, I'm making no money off this story, I do it for the love of the show.

Darien had no idea when everything had started to go so horribly wrong. 

Everything had been flowing so well, like a well-oiled machine, as they say. 

He and Hobbes had been sent to bring in some biological terrorists, and they had eventually tracked them to the foothills of the Sierra Madre's. It had been a lengthy trek from San Diego, one that the Keeper had been hesitant to let him take since it would mean she would not be able to give him his necessary shot. Hobbes had insisted that he could give the counteragent and when the Official had backed him up, Claire had had no choice but to succumb. They had arrived at what they believed to be the location of the terrorists, had hidden the company van in a remote location and taken off on foot. As they had approached the ramshackle abode the perps were hiding out in, all hell had broken loose.

Darien now found himself hunkering down behind a small rock outcropping, wincing involuntarily every time a bullet ricochet off of the formation. "How the Hell are we getting out of this one?" he muttered to his partner.

Hobbes peeked out from his position next to Darien and quickly pulled back as the CRACK of a weapon echoed in the stillness. "You could do your disappearing act and take those guys out. We're wasting time here"

Darien looked down at his tattoo and sighed, "Yeah, I could do that," he replied, ducking as rock shrapnel exploded, "but then you'd have more than the perps to worry about"

Hobbes gave Darien a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes tight, "I'll take my chances, Fawkes. Now go!" 

Darien shrugged and Hobbes watched as he quickly vanished from sight. The smaller agent poked his head above his hiding place and watched as one of the perps suddenly came flying through one of the glass windows. There were some startled shouts from inside as the front door suddenly disintegrated and two more men came flying out, landing heavily next to their comrade. With a wide grin, Hobbes stood up and began making his way forward, gun drawn. His expert eyes darted this way and that, checking the surrounding brush for any sign of trouble. There was a light metallic sound and Hobbes watched as Darien once again became visible. He was leaning heavily on the jam of the door, a grimace on his face. "I warned you," he said simply.

Hobbes walked up to the three unconscious men and toed them lightly with the foot of his shoe. They groaned, but did not move. "Don't worry," Hobbes said to his partner, holstering his gun, "I got your shot in the van"

Darien grimaced again and rubbed the back of his neck, "Then let's hurry this up and --"

He stopped as sudden movement caught his eye. In the distance, several feet away from where they had just been hiding, a fourth and unaccounted for member of the terrorist group, jumped out of the bushes, his weapon pointed directly at the two agents. 

"Hobbes!" Darien shouted as he watched the muzzle of the weapon flash.

Fawkes jumped away from the door jam and raced at his partner, as he grabbed Hobbes across the shoulders and forced him heavily to the ground, he already knew he had been too slow. As soon as they landed on the hard soil, Darien jumped immediately to his feet feeling the tickle of quicksilver coat his skin. He raced in the direction of the man neither agent had been aware of, they had only been told of three men, not four. NOT FOUR!

The perp never heard or saw him coming. Darien slammed into the man's chest with the force of a charging bull. The man's head snapped back and he was flung harshly into a tree. Darien never gave the man time to drop to his knees; he swung angry fists at the perp, pummeling him across his head and shoulders. He could feel the sharp claws of madness digging into the back of his brain, knew that staying invisible only increased its power, its hold over him. He stopped only when the man's eyes rolled back in his head. He watched as the perp dropped heavily to the ground, unconscious or dead Darien couldn't tell. He really didn't care either. 

Shedding his quicksilver skin, he ran back to where Hobbes was lying. A thin trickle of blood was running out of the corner of his partner's mouth and his chest was rising and falling abnormally, as if the very effort to breath was a monumentous task unto itself. 

"Hobbes?" he whispered, kneeling by his partner's side. "Hobbes, can you hear me?"

The agent's eyelids fluttered and, with great effort, opened; his eyes were glassy with pain and shock, they were unfocused and wandering. "Fawkes?" he wheezed.

Darien gently raised Hobbes' head and placed it on his lap, "Yeah, Hobbes, yeah. I'm here."

"Oh Jesus, Fawkes, I've been hit," he gasped and coughed and tiny flecks of blood splattered his face.

"It's okay," Darien lied, "I'm gonna get you out of here, Hobbes." 

A painful memory burst roughly to the surface and Darien cringed with the pain and guilt it brought with it. He had uttered those exact words to his brother nearly a year ago, and look at what had happened then.

Hobbes moaned and brought him back to the present. "Where's your cell?" he asked his partner.

"What?"

"Your cell, Hobbes," Darien said, patting down his partner, "your cell, where is it?"

"Jacket pocket, left side," the agent wheezed. 

Darien located the small device and flipped it open. An arc of white-hot pain lanced through his skull and he cringed, choking back a scream of pain. _Not now, damn you,_ he thought to himself. He shook his head in attempt to detach the pain and quickly dialed a number.

He put the small phone to his ear and listened as static greeted him on the other end. After a moment, he was barely able to make out the sound of a male voice on the other end. "Hello?" he shouted, "Hello, who is this? Official?"

The voice said something that Darien couldn't make out and as a blinding flow of pain screamed behind his eyes Darien decided not to try and decipher it. "Listen," he managed, "Hobbes and I are in trouble," static blared and hissed angrily at him, but he kept talking, "You need to get someone out here fast! Do you hear me?" The voice was faint now, being drowned out by the increasing hiss of static. 

"Hobbes has been shot, he needs medical attention! Can you hear me?" he shouted into the static, he was about to give more information when the line suddenly went dead. The ensuing silence made Darien's ears ring.

On his lap, Hobbes coughed again, causing more drops of blood to land on his chin and shirt. Darien tossed the useless cell phone aside with an angry curse and reached out to cradle his partner's head. "Hobbes? Stay with me, okay? I'm gonna get you out of here."

The injured man forced his eyes open so he could stare up at Darien, "Fawkes," he gasped, "your eyes"

Darien knew the impending madness was closing in on him, he could feel its icy grip on the back of his brain; he could hear its insane laughter echoing in the deep recesses of his mind. It was coming, it whispered, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

"Don't worry," he whispered to Hobbes, "I got it under control"

His partner actually snorted at him, "Yeah, I've seen your control" 

Hearing his friend making a joke actually made Darien believe that everything was going to be okay. That Hobbes would pull through and be all right, but then the seriousness of the situation hit home with the growing crimson stain that was spreading on the hard ground beneath them.

Searing pain sliced through Darien's skull again and he gasped, reaching back to grab the back of his head. He could feel Hobbes watching him silently and he fought the demon for control, forced it back until it was just a dull ache and he could think again. The effort took almost all of his will, and it left him breathless.

"You okay?" Hobbes asked quietly.

Darien nodded, "Yeah, no sweat." He glanced casually down at the monitor and groaned inwardly, two segments remained green. He knew that the counteragent he desperately needed was in the van, but it was a good ten minute hike and he was in no condition to go wondering off alone, plus there was Hobbes who also need him just as desperately. 

Should he risk leaving his partner here, alone and injured, so he could inject himself with his life-saving serum, or risk it and wait for help to arrive. 

The demon sliced through his skull again and this time Darien couldn't surpress the anguished cry it brought with it. He grabbed his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut; the madness was rushing to the surface like an out-of-control tsunami, he could feel the chains of his persona weakening and threatening to break against the onslaught.

On his lap, Hobbes moaned and stirred. 

The sound touched something inside Darien, and a small part of his mind began to fight viciously for control, forcing the chains to hold back the tidal wave of madness; for his partner's sake. The agony passed and Darien almost passed out from the relief, he gasped and sucked at air that had never tasted so sweet. He had no idea how much longer he'd be able to continue the battle and win. He glanced down at his partner; Hobbes' breathing was becoming even more labored and the thin line of blood was becoming a tiny river.

"Hobbes?" he whispered, his voice raw, "Hobbes, you gotta stay with me"

He watched as his partner struggled to open eyelids that were suddenly too heavy to lift, heard him take a rattling breath that echoed in his chest. Watched as Hobbes suddenly twitched, harshly, violently, once and then was still. 

"Hobbes?" Darien shouted, grabbing his partner's head in his hands, "Hobbes don't you quit on me, dammit!" Darien got quickly to his knees, placing his partner's head on the ground, and began to breathe for him. The coppery taste of Hobbes' blood filled his own mouth, but Darien ignored it and continued to blow the life giving air that his partner needed.

With a shaking hand, Darien reached out to feel the side of his partner's neck, laughing in relief when he felt the slight fluttering of a heartbeat.

"C'mon Hobbes," he muttered as he began the mouth-to-mouth again, "c'mon you stubborn son-of-a-bitch, breathe!"

Darien continued the procedure until he was nearly dizzy with the effort, his tenacity paid off when Hobbes coughed and covered his face with crimson droplets.

"Hobbes?"

An anguished moan was the reply and Darien dropped his head between his hands, just grateful that the agent was still alive. From that angle, he watched the red pool continue to flow out from under his partner and Darien mentally kicked himself. How could he not try and stop the bleeding?

He quickly ripped off the blue jacket he was wearing and tore off the white tank top that was underneath it. With frenzied hands, he pulled back his partner's bloodstained jacket and ripped his button-up shirt open. He grimaced at the wound he saw, but quickly ripped the cotton tank top into lengthy pieces and began applying them to the wound in an effort to staunch the steady flow of blood.

The demon came again, slicing through Darien's brain with razor-sharp claws. It felt as if his very essence had suddenly been set ablaze. Darien toppled backwards, grabbing his head in both of his hands, his face the picture of agony. The demon laughed and a link in the chain of Darien's control weakened and snapped. Darien felt as if a powerful current was dragging him under; he watched as all the emotions of hate and anger he kept bottled up came bubbling and rushing to the surface. Watched the demon cackle with delight.

"Fawkes?"

The voice of Bobby Hobbes cut through the maelstrom, stopped the demon in its tracks.

"Fight it, Fawkes. You can do it, buddy"

Darien grabbed onto the sound of his partner's voice like a lifeline and followed it back, kicking free of the undertow. With every fiber of his being he broke free and lay gasping on the cold soil, felt it sucking the body heat off of his bare back. He could still hear the insane laughter echoing in his skull, could feel it licking eagerly at his consciousness, waiting to devour it.

He brought a trembling right hand into his line of sight; one green segment remained. He blew out a heavy breath and struggled up onto his elbows. He saw Hobbes in front of him; conscious and staring back with concern. Beside him, three terrorists lay in an unconscious heap, behind him another perp was out cold.

Darien knew he couldn't wait any longer, to do so would only put Hobbes' life in even more danger. He needed that shot and he needed it now. He struggled to his feet and made his way over to where his partner was lying. "We're going back to the van," he said simply, his voice strained.

"You mean you're going," Hobbes replied weakly.

"No," Darien repeated, putting his hands on his hips, "we're going. I'm not leaving you here."

"Fawkes, you can barely take care of yourself, how are you ---"

Hobbes stopped as pure fury etched its way across Darien's face, he watched as his partner balled his hands into tight fists, the tendons standing in sharp relief against his forearms. Watched as Darien struggled for control.

"Hobbes," Darien whispered, his voice the epitome of someone desperately trying to hang on, "now is not the best time to argue with me, okay buddy? I'm barely keeping it together, here."

Hobbes nodded in understanding as Darien bent over and studied him with terrible blood-shot eyes. "We're going to hike back to the van so I can get my shot. We'll have to leave the perps here and hope they stay out long enough for the cavalry to arrive."

"Fawkes, I can't make that hike," Hobbes stated simply.

Darien nodded, "I know, that's why I'm gonna carry you."

"What?" Hobbes asked as his partner began sliding strong arms under him, "Wait a minute! Fawkes!"

White-hot lava coursed through Hobbes' veins as he found himself hoisted up off the ground. The world in front of him swam as large black circles dotted his field of vision. He was going to pass out and there was nothing in the world he could do to prevent it.

***

When Hobbes finally groaned awake, the first thing he noticed was that he was back on the ground. Had Fawkes changed his mind? Had he left him behind to go get the counteragent himself? He opened his eyes and turned his head slightly, finding the subject of his musings kneeling next to him. He watched as his partner rocked gently back and forth on his knees.

"Fawkes?" he ventured, his voice raspy and thin, "You okay over there?"

The rocking stopped as Darien slowly turned his head to gaze over at his partner.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, if that were true, Hobbes decided, then he was looking straight into Hell itself.

Darien's brown eyes were gone, replaced by blood-red orbs that could inspire nightmares.

"Actually," he replied, his voice deadly calm, "this is not one of my better days"

Hobbes' breath caught in his throat as he stared into those inhuman eyes. He searched for any sign of his partner, any glimmer of hope that the Darien he knew was still in there somewhere.

He came up empty.

Hobbes reached down to his side, searching for the familiar, comforting feel of his sidearm. He was in no condition to fight off a psychopath, but he'd defend himself if he had to.

He touched his holster; his gun was not there.

Darien got slowly to his feet and made his way over to where Hobbes was lying; a metallic object glimmered in his right hand. "Looking for this?" he asked quietly, producing the weapon and holding it out for his partner to see. He smiled; it was a harsh, cruel smile, devoid of feeling. "Didn't want to take any chances," he whispered.

"Fawkes," Hobbes began, keeping his eyes on the gun, "Fawkes I know you're still in there, buddy. I need you to come back."

Darien laughed, it was a chilling sound that caused an icy shiver to work its way down Hobbes' spine. "Darien's gone," he said simply, "I'm here now."

Hobbes shook his head wincing as he tried to readjust his position on the ground, "No," he said, "No way. Fawkes is a lot stronger than that, he won't give up without a fight. You can't have him"

Darien pulled the hammer back on the gun, "Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much, Hobbes?"

"C'mon Fawkes," the agent continued, ignoring the comment, "don't let this thing beat you. You've learned to control it better, use that to your advantage."

Darien lunged at the prone Hobbes, wrapping a powerful hand around the smaller man's throat. He pressed his face close to his partner's, pure hatred and fury emanating from his blood-red eyes. "Shut up," he hissed. He brought the gun up and jammed it into Hobbes' left temple, "Maybe I should just shut you up myself"

Hobbes gasped and choked archs of pain lanced through his body as he struggled against the grip of iron around his throat. He tried to grab at Darien's hand, but was so weak from shock and blood loss that he couldn't get his fingers to work. "Fawkes," he wheezed, "Fawkes don't do this"

The fingers clenched and Hobbes found his oxygen intake completely cut off. Shades of gray began to color the edges of his vision, black spots danced eerily before his eyes. He tried to struggle, but his body refused to listen.

He was going to die at the hands of this ... monster. 

***

Darien was screaming.

He screamed and fought against the whirlwind that was overpowering his mind. He was being pulled down, down, down, into the deepest recess of his mind. The demon was winning this battle, it's claws sinking into his very being, tearing it to shreds.

He felt like he was watching the scene in front of him from a very great distance. He knew it was his hand around his partner's throat, knew that it was him choking the very life from Hobbes, and he knew that he was powerless to stop it.

The demon had won.

Then he heard his partner's voice; heard the pain, the fear, the suffering all rolled into one word, "Fawkes"

He screamed again, this time in fury and frustration. He couldn't let this happen, he had come too far, fought too hard to lose it now. Using the sheer strength of what remained of his sanity, he pushed back and the demon blinked.

Darien struggled and clawed his way out of the whirlwind; fought his way out of the abyss he had been tumbling into, battled his way back to his partner. 

The demon weakened but did not let go, Darien could feel it lurking just behind his eyes; could feel its heat and its closeness. He knew that he would not win the next battle. This one had used up the last of his reserves.

He released his grip on Hobbes' throat and stumbled backwards, he saw the gun in his right hand and quickly threw it into the bushes. He doubled over, putting his hands on his knees and breathing deeply. 

The demon laughed.

"Hobbes?" Darien whispered, his throat raw, "You okay?"

His partner was holding his bruised throat and gasping hungrily at the air, sucking in as much oxygen as his burning lungs could handle. 

"Yeah," the agent replied weakly, "no sweat"

Darien stumbled over to Hobbes and stood over him, hands once again on his knees.

"Do you trust me?" he asked simply.

Hobbes stared up at his partner, looked into those horrible eyes. The last time Darien had stood over him this way he had been in a smashed phone booth, he half expected the Keeper to show up and rescue them.

Hobbes studied his partner's face, saw the tremendous effort it was taking for Darien to keep the madness at bay. He nodded his head, "Yes," he said at last, "I trust you, Fawkes."

More gently than Hobbes would have thought capable in his present condition, Darien slid his powerful arms under him and once again resumed their trek.

***

As they neared the brush where they had stashed the company van, Hobbes knew that Darien was walking a razor's edge. Small whimpering sounds emanated from deep in his throat and every so often he would have to stop to regain the tenuous grasp on his control.

Hobbes spoke to him gently from time to time, words of encouragement and friendship, just enough to keep him from slipping away from the bonds of reality.

They could see the rust-on-cream coloring of the van peeking out from the foliage; Darien's footsteps increased and Hobbes allowed the small spark of hope to flare.

Then they stopped.

Hobbes looked up at Darien and dismay gripped his heart. The small spark of humanity that had been present in those eyes was fading, growing dimmer. "I'm sorry, Hobbes," Darien whispered. "I tried" 

His face crumpled into anguish as he released his partner, sending him tumbling harshly to the ground.

Hobbes cried out in agony at the impact, but managed to roll away from the emerging monster. He struggled onto all fours and turned his head to watch as Darien fell heavily to his knees. Realizing he had no more time to waste, Hobbes forced himself to his feet, biting his lip at the liquid anguish that seared a coarse through his veins. He grabbed onto his wounded side and began limping toward the van, toward the counteragent that would save not only Darien's life but also his own. He heard the sound of movement behind him, but didn't dare turn around to look; he did not want to see the nightmare closing in on him.

Hobbes reached the van and threw open the side door with all of his strength, groaning and weaving as his world spun and turned on its axis. He collapsed inside the dark interior and reached blindly for where he knew the small bag containing the needle and counteragent was.

An iron grip fastened itself around his ankle and yanked him back outside. Hobbes screamed as he landed on his wound, forcing himself back from the brink of unconsciousness. He saw Darien's shadow fall over him, blacking out the midday sun. There was no point trying to call Fawkes back, he knew, the only thing that could save him now was the shot. 

Hobbes ripped open the small bag and fumbled for the needle and small vial. Above him, the thing called Darien laughed coldly and aimed a swift kick. Hobbes felt the toe of his partner's sneaker embed itself into his ribcage and he grunted in pain, curling in on himself to try and afford as much protection as he could. Doing his best to ignore the beast above him, Hobbes hastily removed the protective sheath from the hypodermic and stabbed it into the top of the vial, pulling the blue liquid into the container. Darien kicked at him again, in the small of his back near the bullet wound, Hobbes couldn't stop the scream that escaped his throat.

He felt powerful hands grab him by his shoulder and hoist him roughly to his feet, spinning him around so that he was face to face with the monster.

He grit his teeth against the pain, forced himself not to lose his grip on the needle. He once again gazed into those nightmarish orbs, meeting the demon head on. "I told you," he whispered, "you can't have him"

With a groan of effort, Hobbes brought his arm up and stabbed Darien in his neck with the needle, pushing down on the plunger and sending the blue contents into his system.

The demon released him with a howl and Hobbes fell heavily to the ground, gratefully sinking into the black pool of unconsciousness.

They say that the first sense that comes back to you upon regaining consciousness is hearing. He could hear the gentle footsteps of someone inside the room with him, could hear the muted hum of medical equipment and a soft accent talking gently to someone. 

Hobbes opened his eyes and blinked at the too bright light. In the far corner, he saw the Keeper talking with Darien, his partner glanced over at him and motioned to the woman.

They both came over and Claire smiled at him, it was a lovely sight to see. "How're you feeling, Mr. Hobbes?"

"Like I've been shot"

"Yes, well, the good news is the bullet didn't do too much damage," she replied, folding her arms across her clipboard. "You were suffering from shock and blood loss when we found you, but it was nothing I couldn't fix." She smiled at him again as she tucked a stray piece of blond hair behind an ear.

"The perps?" he asked, throwing a glance at his partner. It was Claire who answered, "According to the Official, they were still unconscious when they arrived. They've been taken into custody.

"How's Fawkes?" Hobbes asked, glancing again at his silent partner.

"Oh, I'm fine," Darien replied, ducking his head a bit to the side. "Once you gave me that shot of counteragent ..." he trailed off and rubbed a hand through his hair.

"Look, I've got some paperwork to catch up on," Claire suddenly admitted. She nodded at the two men as she quickly made her way out of the room.

Darien looked over at Hobbes, "Look, Hobbes .."

The agent held up a hand, "Don't even start," he said, "I know where this conversation is going."

"Hobbes," Darien continued, coming closer to the bed, his eyes pleading, "I almost killed you. Again. I would've killed you --"

The smaller man glared up at him, "What did I tell you before?" he said, he pointed a finger at Darien as he continued, "It takes a Hell of a lot more than what you got to kill Bobby Hobbes, my friend." He waved a hand in the air dismissively, "When are you gonna learn that? You can't kill me. I'm here to stay."

After a moment Darien smiled and reached out to gently squeeze his friend's shoulder.

No words were spoken; they were unnecessary and would have been out of place. What passed between the two men was an understanding that transcended the mere spoken language, a bond between friends that was stronger than any madness.

The end


End file.
